Obeisance
by Kamil
Summary: A missing scene from the end of "Consequences" -- a Highlander/ST:Voyager story written by Kamil, Robin Serrano & ZorroRojo. The story may be almost over, but there are still a few things Duncan and Methos need to work out.


Obeisance  
  
  
  
I don't own Duncan, Methos, or the concepts of Immortality, and no one at Rysher,   
Panzer/Davis told me that I could play with their toys. Rated R for male/male   
homoerotic sexual content, with D/s themes added in for variety. If this isn't your   
thing, don't annoy me, or yourself, simply go away.  
Author's Note: Many thanks to Robin Serrano for unflagging support while I was   
writing this. Also, a big thank you to Suze for her invaluable advice, and wisdom   
regarding fingers, etc. Duncan owes her one as well. Any and all good points   
are due entirely to their support and influence; the goofs and problems belong solely   
to me.  
Addendum: I've put this back up on the web because Melina insisted-if you enjoy it,   
you have her to thank as well. Speaking of which...thanks, Melina! I really   
appreciate the lovely things you said.   
  
  
Duncan stirred restlessly in his sleep; something was teasing and   
twitching at him. Some noise, some unknown sensation was running   
coaxing fingers along his awareness, pulling him out of his wonderful   
haze. Duncan reached out for Methos' body; he wanted to snuggle back   
into Methos' warmth and slide into delicious unconsciousness. Sleep-  
fogged, Duncan reluctantly dragged his way towards the land of the living.  
  
"Methos? Where'd you go?"  
  
"What makes you think I went somewhere, Highlander?" Methos' lazy   
voice reassured Duncan, a soothing caress along his senses...  
Duncan made an effort to stay aware long enough to retrieve Methos; he   
wanted that sleek warmth pressed tight alongside his own body.   
  
"Come're," he grumbled, "I'm getting cold."  
  
The silky laugh greeting Duncan's request didn't do a single thing to   
soothe his rest -- but it went a long ways towards waking him up. Duncan   
had known Methos for almost four-hundred years, and after all this time   
he knew Methos' moods better than he knew his own. Apparently Methos   
wanted to play. Sweet fire slid through Duncan's body, curling inside him,   
settling low in his belly. Fingers of sensation stretched low and wound   
around Duncan's cock, twining themselves to tease around his balls.  
Blinking his eyes open to the seductive, sensual laughter bouncing softly   
off of the walls, Duncan saw Methos sitting cross-legged on the end of   
their bed, lazily smoothing a few strips of well-used, oiled leather with his   
long elegant fingers. Duncan's cock tightened even further as he   
considered the various possibilities, applications and implications.  
  
"Why, MacLeod," Methos' wickedly teasing voice traced fire along his   
nerves, stirring anticipation. "You look like you have a few ideas of your   
own." Cocking an elegant eyebrow Methos idly murmured, "I wonder if   
they match up with mine?"  
  
Suddenly Methos was right there -- on top of him, pressing him into the   
sheets. A heavy, unbelievably solid presence holding Duncan immobile.   
Amazingly graceful, deceptively strong hands tightened beyond any   
possibility of easy escape on his shoulders, shoving his upper body deep   
into the soft bed. Methos' eyes were alive and glittering, it seemed like his   
entire body was lit from within. His face shone, and his tender mouth,   
which seemed to go through life begging for Duncan to claim it as his   
own, was opened just a bit, his tongue extended, slipping delicately over   
his lips, slicking them and making them shine.   
  
Methos smirked annoyingly at Duncan, putting a new twist on Duncan's   
lustful contemplations. "I promised you that you'd be paying for that little   
stunt of yours this afternoon. But I'll bet you weren't planning on paying   
up just quite yet, were you?"  
  
Absolutely aware of what Methos was thinking, Duncan pushed up against   
the restraining hands; he needed to see if Methos was as serious as he   
thought he was. The fierce shove driving him immediately back into the   
mattress told him all that he needed to know -- Methos was in full-out   
alpha mode. And he'd be really disappointed, and more than just a little   
pissed if Duncan didn't play along with his game. Not a problem, Duncan   
thought, we'll just see who wins when all is said and done. Duncan   
casually slid down onto the soft mattress, easing his body into seeming   
acceptance.  
  
Methos studied Duncan from behind the dusty shadows of his long lashes.   
"You aren't quitting now, are you? Come on, Highlander, I'll be crushed if   
you let me win this early in the game." Methos leaned over, grinning   
wickedly, and determinedly attached his teeth to the line of Duncan's jaw.   
  
"Ow!" Duncan's aggrieved complaint slid smoothly into a contented   
grumble. Duncan's throat suddenly came alive; the sting of razor-sharp   
nips were being followed by smooth swipes of Methos' moist tongue,   
wringing sensation from Duncan's skin. The warm velvet of Methos'   
tongue seemed somehow to slide over Duncan's cock, even as Methos   
smoothed it over Duncan's throat. Methos' mouth was a hot and lively   
thing, tracing the muscular line of Duncan's throat, demanding and   
needy, pulling warmth, blood, and lust to the surface.  
  
Duncan surged out of his passivity, obeying the sudden imperative that   
demanded that he wrench himself free -- force Methos to submit to the   
needs of his hungry mouth. Methos followed him easily, tracking Duncan   
with soft chuckles against the moist skin of his throat. Grinning, Methos   
stepped up his assault, nipping harder, and sucking more deeply, a deep   
growl escaping when Duncan slid out of reach for a moment.  
  
Duncan forced calm onto his anxious body, biding his time. Methos   
hooked an ankle around Duncan's calf, pushing his muscular leg between   
Duncan's sweaty thighs. Duncan shivered. Methos shoved Duncan's legs   
apart, rubbing softly against him, never moving his mouth from its damp   
explorations of Duncan's neck. Licking carefully, over and over, on the   
throbbing pulse point, Methos scraped reddened skin off with his teeth,   
then soothed the newly raw area with the moist slickness of his tongue.   
Feeling another delicate shiver of sensation sliding through his body,   
Duncan pushed his trembling body up into Methos, knowing there was no   
way that he could avoid feeling the blazing heat of the throbbing steel sex   
pressed tightly against his own.  
  
Moving his mouth from Duncan's throat, Methos groaned deeply in his   
chest, helplessly in his reaction to the delightful sensation. Immediately   
recognizing his opportunity, Duncan struck. He reversed the leg-lock in a   
heart-beat, doing his best to use the momentum he'd gained, along with   
his greater weight and mass to flip Methos over and pin the heaving wet   
body underneath him.  
  
The following struggle didn't appear to be easy, punctuated as it was with   
bitten off curses and low grunts of effort, and it certainly wasn't over   
quickly, but Methos retained his position of supremacy; millennia of   
instinctual reflexes, of times when he'd subdued other struggling bodies,   
came to his rescue and allowed him to remain in control. Methos drove   
Duncan's twisting body right back, deep into the warm bed he'd just tried   
to vacate. Undiscouraged and undeterred, Duncan smiled dangerously   
when he saw and felt the effect of the contrary irritated noise that slid its   
way up and out of his throat.  
  
So far, so good.  
  
Duncan squirmed restlessly on the mattress, his mind flashing with   
anticipation (and a really annoying measure of concern), over the details   
of his intended role in Methos' little wake-up scenario. Glancing up, his   
mind busily plotting his counter to Methos' next move, Duncan found his   
gaze captured instantly and held fast by the passionate intensity sparkling   
in Methos' eyes. An immediate thrill of purely anticipatory desire raced   
throughout Duncan's body, tightening his cock even further, tingling in   
his balls, tracing soft, liquid fire deep in his belly. Groaning, Duncan sank   
back into the cool mattress, swallowing convulsively and determined to   
give Methos what he wanted.  
  
What they both wanted apparently.  
  
All personal worries and desires aside (and how could they possibly be   
one and the same?), there was no way that Duncan could simply lie there   
and give in. He had been the responsible one for both of them for   
seemingly forever, Duncan wasn't at all sure that he could let that role go   
now-- even for a moment. On the other hand, someplace deep within   
Duncan yearned for Methos to take over, to assume the responsibilities   
that Duncan had been so weighed down with over the past year. Duncan   
exhaled on a gusty sigh and relaxed again in Methos' firm grip; hopefully   
together he and Methos could find a way to satisfy all of their varied   
yearnings.  
  
Duncan knew as well that his seeming capitulation pleased, amused, and   
aroused Methos, and he also knew that Methos didn't trust his surrender   
for a minute. Oh well, that was going to be half the fun. If Methos wanted   
a hard, dominant fuck then Duncan would do his best to see that that was   
just what Methos got. And any ridiculous worries -- well...fears, if Duncan   
was going to be honest with himself, would be dismissed out of hand.   
Methos needed him, badly: therefore, Duncan was going to do his   
damnedest not to let him down.  
  
With Duncan's cock throbbing in counterpoint to their rapidly quickening   
breaths, he remembered all the days, nights, and years -- all of the   
centuries, that he and Methos had spent devoted to the single-minded   
goal of learning all there was to know about fulfilling the other's deepest   
cravings and desires. Understanding Methos' passion and needs and wants   
as he did, Duncan understood that this went far, far beyond Methos   
simply wanting to be on top during this encounter. Methos desperately   
needed -- craved really, the chance to exercise the control that had been   
so obviously absent from his life of late.  
  
The effects of the temporal displacement wave had ripped all of Methos'   
choices from him, rendered him helpless in a way that Methos had   
thought was behind him forever. Duncan couldn't remove the scars of   
Methos' past, but he could offer himself willingly and freely and hope that   
the gift of his body might numb some of the lingering pain.  
  
His spirit was more than willing, and his body certainly seemed brazenly   
enthusiastic, if his throbbing erection was any indication -- if a bit hesitant   
about being restrained to the degree Duncan thought that Methos would   
probably demand of him. Duncan tossed his head in annoyance, and   
commanded that his doubts and worries stop this instant. Methos needed   
something only Duncan could give; so it was up to him to ensure Methos'   
needs were satisfied. All of them.  
  
Leaning hard on Duncan's hands, Methos pressed them further down into   
the soft mattress. Using that point of contact as a brace to support   
himself, Methos maneuvered further up the bed until he was straddling   
Duncan's chest. Once there he sat back on his heels, satisfied for the   
moment. Pressing inward Methos used the power in his muscular thighs to   
help secure Duncan's obedience. Watching Duncan warily, Methos reached   
back, quickly snagging his restraints, managing to somehow keep his   
position when Duncan suddenly surged to life beneath him, exploding into   
a hard bundle of determined energy.  
  
"I'm not that easy, MacLeod." Methos' smile became even more self-  
satisfied if possible. He resettled himself over Duncan's chest, pressing his   
thighs even tighter, his Cheshire cat grin showing just how pleased he   
was with himself for having successfully ridden out Duncan's brief but   
volatile surge.  
  
Fine. Duncan glared at Methos through narrowed eyes, conceding the   
moment. For the moment. However the stubborn look Duncan aimed at   
his annoying lover was intended to make it perfectly clear that he hadn't   
given up yet. For a multitude of reasons, he didn't dare. In this mood,   
God alone knew what Methos would do to him if he failed to offer up the   
expected performance.  
  
Duncan squeezed his eyes shut, considering his situation. The throbbing   
arousal surging through his body demanded attention now. His desire to   
please and be possessed by Methos was almost overwhelming as well.   
Also, there was his warriors voice, nattering on in the back of his mind.   
Quietly, but firmly, it was demanding to know just what in the hell he   
thought he was doing allowing himself to be trussed up like a sheep about   
to be slaughtered, on a starship full of Immortals, no less. Even if they   
were all his friends.  
  
Glowering at Methos from beneath narrowed eyes Duncan grumbled   
under his breath, even as he found himself unable to take his eyes off of   
Methos' nimble fingers as they expertly wound the leather straps around   
his wrists. Methos stretched Duncan's arms over his head, crossing his   
wrists and binding them together. Methos took care that the restraints   
would be snug, but not so tight that they would become painful. Just taut   
enough to keep Duncan securely bound without causing him unnecessary   
pain.  
  
Considering just how to trap Methos in the circle of his arms, Duncan   
jerked, then groaned deep in his chest, the feeling starting from   
somewhere low in his belly when Methos leaned over him, a heavy,   
molten weight on his chest. Methos' body was all damp silk sliding over   
hot steel and very, very enticing. Methos' erection was poking Duncan in   
the belly, glancing up against his own throbbing heat from time to time,   
and Duncan was becoming quite sure that he wasn't going to be able to   
maintain any pretense at presence of mind for much longer. While   
Duncan panted quietly, thoughts of what to do next skittering around in   
his over-heated brain, Methos snagged another tie, this one already   
attached to the framework of their bed.  
  
Smirking annoyingly at Duncan, his grin stretching even further over his   
face when Duncan decided to growl in frustration at him, Methos tied   
Duncan's wrists to the bed, snugging them down firmly. Methos tugged   
upwards on Duncan's bound wrists once or twice, making sure, testing his   
work.  
  
Finding everything to his satisfaction Methos released Duncan's arms   
altogether and moved back a bit, coming to rest over Duncan's hips.   
Apparently oblivious to the pressure and heat of Duncan's rigid sex poking   
him in the butt, Methos leaned forward. Knotting his fingers in Duncan's   
hair he used the thick silk to tug Duncan's mouth up to his. Methos   
assaulted Duncan with deep, open-mouthed kisses and soft, licking tastes   
for a long dizzy time. Methos held on tightly, not uncurling his fingers   
from Duncan's hair until after he'd rendered Duncan breathless and   
witless. Finally Methos pulled away and sat up, gilt eyes full of arousal   
staring enchantedly at Duncan's wet mouth.  
  
Slowly, deliberately sliding his tongue over his hot, swollen lips, Duncan   
savored Methos' ancient, spicy flavor. Smiling at Methos' pained look,   
Duncan considered his small victory. He knew full well the addiction   
Methos had for his mouth. For as long as Duncan could remember, Methos   
had obsessed over his lips and his mouth. Quite useful knowledge that   
Duncan had never once hesitated to turn to his advantage.  
  
As smitten as always Methos lowered a hand, carefully stroking his fingers   
over the moistness, dragging his nails around the edges. Duncan felt a   
finger pressing against his lips, seeking entry, and he opened obediently,   
drawing it in, curling his tongue around it, sucking gently.  
  
Methos' head fell back, his eyes sliding shut, a breathy, shuddery moan   
fighting its way free from somewhere deep within him. He brought his   
free hand up and began lazily playing with the loose strands of Duncan's   
hair. "I'm going to fuck your mouth now, Duncan." Methos informed him   
quietly, almost reverently.  
  
Shivering with anticipation, Duncan raptly watched Methos crawl up over   
his body as he heaved and struggled against his restraints. Straddling his   
chest, leaning down over him, Methos pressed the head of his flushed   
cock against Duncan's lips; Duncan slipped his tongue out, licking all   
around the swollen crown, thrusting his pointed tongue as deeply as   
possible into the sensitive opening.  
  
Duncan writhed harder, longing for control, for the use of his hands. He   
desperately wanted to grab Methos' ass and shove that white-hot steel   
and silk hardness deep into his eager mouth. He craved losing himself to   
the mindless pleasure of Methos sliding in and out, sinking ever deeper   
into his throat. But Duncan was unable to do that; he was being forced to   
just lie there and take only as much as Methos was willing to give him,   
helpless to do more as Methos slid his wet, enticing cockhead around his   
lips. Methos permitted him teasing tastes, but no more. His thoroughly   
aggravating lover invariably pulled back before Duncan could get down to   
serious business.  
  
Suddenly annoyed beyond bearing, Duncan snarled; he raised his head up   
as far as he was able, reaching...straining--he had to get his mouth   
around that slick, salty heat or die in the attempt.  
  
Methos grinned at his frustrated actions and sat even further back on his   
heels, tormenting Duncan even more. "You're such a slut; you know that,   
MacLeod?" Methos' voice was low and lust warmed, affectionate and   
depraved all at once. "I think I'll tie you up like this and fuck you stupid a   
lot more often."  
  
Such delicious cruelty. Duncan yanked as hard as he could on his   
bindings. Surely if he made up his mind, determined to win free, he could   
break loose? Of course he could. And then, well then Methos would think   
twice before trying this ill-considered trick again. Duncan MacLeod would   
teach his wanton, arrogant lover a few lessons about just what true   
possession entailed. Beginning right now.  
  
Duncan turned his head until he was able to capture Methos' eyes,   
holding them locked in an intimate, demanding contact. Duncan had   
every intention of beginning his gleeful gloating, his chest swelling with   
the pride of his accomplishment.  
  
Shit.  
  
Duncan felt like kicking himself. Of course he should have realized that   
Methos was already aware of every thought passing through his lust-  
addled brain. Duncan himself could usually read Methos' plans and actions   
like a book; he surely ought to expect that Methos could do the same for   
him. Obviously they were each able to keep certain secrets, but in these   
more intimate moments, when both men let their guards down -- well, then   
it was especially difficult to hide something from the other. Especially   
something that one of them wanted as badly as Duncan wanted Methos   
right at this moment. Which didn't mean that Duncan had to be happy   
about Methos' knowledge though...  
  
The amused, confident cast of Methos' features acted as a trigger, jacking   
up Duncan's ire even further. Methos' calm confidence solidified Duncan's   
roller coaster emotional state, turning all the passion and lust and fury   
coursing through his body into complex anger and he wasted a few   
additional moments expressing his displeasure, straining for all he was   
worth, ultimately uselessly against his bindings.  
  
Obviously intrigued, Methos studied Duncan's thrashings for a bit, before   
tightly grabbing Duncan's upper arms. Forcefully, he drove him back.   
"Enough, MacLeod," Methos said. "Enough. Now open up. As fascinating it   
is to watch you pretend you don't love losing control, I'm ready for your   
mouth. And I'm not in the mood to be kept waiting."  
  
Furious, Duncan clenched his jaw tightly shut. How dare Methos say those   
things to him - order him about like that? If he could just get free   
he'd -- grab Methos' ass and shove Methos' dick straight down his throat   
himself. Duncan flushed, remembering the reason he'd begun fighting for   
his freedom in the first place. Damn Methos all the way to hell and back   
anyway.  
  
Grudgingly acknowledging the undeniable lust that was overwhelming   
him, but still aggravated with the over-all situation, Duncan squirmed   
restlessly in his bindings. Obviously as long as he'd been with Methos   
they'd played almost every possible game, sexual or otherwise, and with   
all manner of accessories; but never with seven other Immortals within   
hailing...or beheading distance, dammit!  
  
There was something -- distinctly unsettling about being rendered so   
vulnerable and yet feeling so desperate and needy under these   
conditions. Duncan ground his teeth together a few moments longer, then   
sighed and gave it up. Sliding his eyes closed, he sighed, acquiescing   
when Methos pressed insistently on his lips, graceful fingers demanding   
access. Abandoning himself to his fate, Duncan opened his lips and   
welcomed Methos in.  
  
Methos slid two fingers in sideways and separated them a bit. "Wider,   
MacLeod," Methos scolded. "Come on, open up." The look on his face when   
Duncan did as he asked was its own reward. "Hold that thought,   
MacLeod," Methos murmured, pulling his fingers out and slipping himself   
in. Moving closer, Methos pushed deeply into Duncan, gliding forward, not   
stopping until his pelvic bone bumped up against Duncan's nose. "Ummm,   
just perfect," he purred, satisfaction resonating through his voice. "Don't   
move, Highlander," he commanded, gripping Duncan's sweaty face tightly   
in his strong hands. "I'll do all the work; you just lay there and be a good   
little whore."  
  
Despite the harsh sounding words, Methos' pleasure and desire and   
obvious affection were evident in the velvet-soft caress of his voice. And if   
that wasn't enough, all Duncan had to do was to look at the blissful   
adoration shining on Methos' face. Methos' pale skin and lips were   
flushed, glowing with desire. His gilded green eyes gleamed with lust,   
desire and love.  
  
Methos fit his fingers firmly around Duncan's face and neck, finding a   
comfortable and secure place to hold Duncan's head still. Once he was   
satisfied with his grip Methos began thrusting in and out, his eyes focused   
unswervingly on the sight of his ruddy, tumid erection, watching himself   
sliding in and out of Duncan's wet lips; he cocked his head, listening,   
apparently fascinated by the lovely liquid noises.  
  
"Oh, God, so hot...fuck, MacLeod - you feel so...good." Methos gasped and   
groaned his pleasure as he pressed in and out of the slick, hot mouth and   
throat that welcomed his eager thrusts. Almost lying on top of Duncan,   
Methos flexed in and out, shoving deeper ÷ and even deeper with each   
increasingly desperate push.  
  
Duncan's eyes drifted slowly shut, and he allowed his mind to drift free.   
He let himself hear the small grunts and louder moans that Methos   
couldn't seem to hold back. He drew air in deeply through his nostrils,   
staving off suffocation and savoring the deep musky scent of Methos'   
passion. He swallowed the bitter-sweet, salty tang filling his mouth and he   
filled his sight with Methos, lost in passion and arousal. Duncan focused   
his hungry gaze on the place where Methos drove himself to meet him,   
pushing them together until any separation was lost, until they seemed to   
merge in Duncan's tear-damped sight, truly becoming one flesh.  
  
Methos shoved into his mouth for what seemed to Duncan to be a very   
long time - then abruptly, he withdrew, leaving Duncan gasping for air,   
and feeling as bereft as if he'd suddenly lost his shadow. Duncan strained   
up again, reaching, seeking for the solid reality that had been so rudely   
taken from him, but Methos would have none of it.  
  
Methos sat back on his heels, bracing his hands on his thighs, sucking in   
oxygen, panting while he tried to regain some measure of his equilibrium.   
"I want more than your mouth, Duncan, sweet as it is. And now you're   
going to spread your legs and give it to me, aren't you?" Methos gasped   
out, some of the intended abruptness lost to his desperate gulps for air.  
Duncan, long since abandoned to his desire to have Methos buried deeply   
in him, in his ass if he couldn't have him sheltered in his mouth, simply   
nodded his agreement, unable and unwilling to offer any resistance.  
Capturing Methos' gaze, Duncan drew his legs up so that his feet were flat   
on the bed. Inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement of Methos'   
fascinated look, Duncan slid his feet up towards his body, separating his   
thighs as he went, offering Methos the clearest possible view. Duncan   
flexed his back and arched his hips towards Methos. "This what you had in   
mind, humm?" Duncan asked quietly. At Methos' nod, Duncan said, "Come   
take me then."  
  
Methos shook his head, as if to clear it, then slid down to kneel between   
Duncan's legs. Grasping a trembling thigh in each hand, he pressed   
Duncan's legs as far apart as possible, lowering his head to nip and lick   
along the area where Duncan's hips joined onto his body. Duncan   
shivered in anticipation as Methos ran his hot tongue along the seam of   
his thigh and hip, nudging his balls carelessly out of his way with his   
nose.  
  
Duncan groaned, pressing his head back into the pillows, arching his hips   
even higher, offering himself to Methos. The liquid fire of Methos' lips and   
tongue sliding over his tender flesh felt so good, so right. Methos' tongue   
pushed its way into him, setting his nerve endings alight, igniting a   
craving for penetration of another sort. But not just yet. Duncan wasn't   
ready to lose the gentle suction of Methos' mouth, the playful nips from   
his teeth, and the - oh dear God, the wet thrusts of Methos' tongue.  
Too soon, Methos pulled his head away. He smiled at Duncan and raised   
his hand, brushing the back of his fingers in a soothing caress over   
Duncan's cheek. Pushing Duncan's hair away from his eyes, Methos   
soothed, "Just a minute, we're almost there." Reaching for the lube   
Methos slicked himself, then slid his fingers into Duncan, smoothing the   
slippery substance into him. Methos grinned, then nudged his fingers   
against that part of Duncan's body that made him groan aloud, arching his   
entire body up off the mattress.  
  
"Oh, God, Methos," Duncan moaned. "Please."  
  
"Please, what, Duncan?" Methos smirked; looking far too pleased with   
himself, he pushed against that place again, and then again. "Is this what   
you want?" Not waiting for a coherent answer, Methos spread Duncan's   
legs further apart and with one stroke, shoved himself all the way into   
Duncan's desperate body.  
  
Duncan sucked in a shocked breath. Methos' heat seemed to fill his entire   
body; it radiated out from his ass to warm him everywhere. Methos   
paused for only the briefest of moments, then he was riding him hard,   
pistoning in and out, his pace increasing with each stroke. The edges of   
Duncan's vision started to go dark and blurry, the shocks of pleasure   
rocketing through him at an unbearable rate. Methos had him angled so   
that each thrust hit up against the place in him that sent glittering   
sparkles of wanton pleasure and carnal feeling shooting through his entire   
body.  
  
Duncan forced his eyes open, drinking in the vision of Methos lost to their   
pleasure. Somehow, Methos had never appeared more beautiful to   
Duncan than he did in this singular focused moment of need, desire, and   
possession. Duncan's throat tightened as he stared, entranced, at the   
precious lover he'd thought lost to him forever. He needed more, had to   
have more; he wanted to melt into Methos and never be parted again.   
  
Something of his thoughts must have shown in his face because Methos   
slid a hand off of his thigh, wrapping it around the focus of Duncan's   
throbbing, aching desire. Methos squeezed Duncan hard, and his eyes   
rolled shut. He forced them open again, desperate with his need to see   
Methos, to reassure himself that Methos was the one making love to him -   
pouring himself into him until their separate identities were lost forever.   
Consumed by the fire, he lost himself, lost his mind, his identity and his   
separateness to Methos. Gave them all over freely and willingly.  
  
The world tilted and blurred, then darkened and faded toward the light at   
the center of his vision; there was nothing left but Methos. Nothing but   
this one eternal moment, this one perfect instant of fulfillment, this one   
love. Duncan sank into the vital essence, the necessity of his connection   
with Methos.  
  
Releasing, freely giving everything, Duncan surrendered all that he was,   
offered all he had ever been, promised all that he ever would be, and laid   
it at Methos' feet.  
  
Duncan craved the ability to tell Methos - share his feelings with words,   
but he was almost unconscious. So he reminded himself that they had   
forever -- again, and settled for wrapping his newly released arms around   
Methos as tightly as possible. Snuggling into the protection of   
Methos' strong body, Duncan tucked his head in tight under Methos' chin,   
and sighed in total contentment. Duncan allowed himself to drown in the   
blissful, incomparable feeling of a warm, totally sated, drowsy Methos as   
he gradually relaxed on his chest. Drifting away, the heartbeat and   
presence of the love of his life soothed and grounded him, holding him   
safely through the night.  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
finis 


End file.
